


Unmasked

by nsyncgrrl



Category: Music RPF, NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsyncgrrl/pseuds/nsyncgrrl
Summary: A medieval setting where a prince in disguise goes to the masked festival in search of someone he lost long ago.
Relationships: Lance Bass/Justin Timberlake
Kudos: 1





	Unmasked

No one knew who he was. Dressed in the ragtag garb of a pirate, Justin was free to mingle among the commoners, laugh at their jokes, drink of their wine, share their meal and their friendship and for a night forget all about the cold, stale walls of the castle, the empty expanse of his bed. For the ball, he was no one more important than a merchant or orphan or knight. For the length of the masque, he was not a prince. He didn't even have a name, hidden beneath these rags. He was merely stranger, fellow man, friend.

Around him sconced torches blazed into the night, pushing the darkness back into the dark alleys that snaked between makeshift booths and the crumbling stone buildings that surrounded the town square. Children dressed as faeries and imps raced through the square, dodging the legs of their parents and neighbors, his subjects, whom he saw from the towers of his castle and the windows of his carriage, but whom he had never seen up close before. Not in years. He had never imagined they could be so bright, so vivid, so alive -- handmade costumes and expensive gowns and chiffon robes, a patchwork of colors and people that danced in his vision like whispered dreams -- _this_ was what he was missing, in his lonely, solitary life. _This_ is what he had told himself he was better off to forget.

But that had been a lie, and he had decided to mingle with the crowds on this holiday, behind the anonymity of a masque that covered the upper half of his face. People looked at him openly, they laughed and sang in his presence, they didn't run or bow or cower as he passed. His was just another masked face in the crowd.

Amid the colors and lights and ribbons, Justin looked closely at every face he met, trying to see something he remembered from his childhood, back when he _had_ been able to play among the common children, before his studies and his duties and his confinement in the castle keep. He searched every mask, trying to see _those_ eyes, that peridot gaze that even the richest jewels couldn't rival, those celadon eyes that used to sparkle for him alone. He remembered them filled with sadness the night his father died and his childhood ended. The next day he assumed the throne, barely nineteen winters old, and the pain in those green eyes as he was crowned haunted every day since. He couldn't sleep without feeling soft hands on his body, tender lips on his. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw _those_ eyes blazing in his mind. It was the memory of those eyes that forced him to the masque this night, and the hope that he denied he felt, the small coal burning at his heart, telling him maybe, just _maybe,_ maybe he'd see him again.

But where? People thronged the square, blending one into the next until everything was just an oneiric melange of color and motion, a kaleidoscope that whirled around and in and through him, leaving him breathless and heady like strong ale. _This was a bad idea,_ he thought suddenly, staggering beneath the sensations clamoring at his mind. _A mistake. I should just go back to my chambers and drink myself into another dreamless sleep._ He stumbled from the main square and headed for the comforting darkness of a nearby alley. He'd make his way back to the castle. It was ludicrous to think he would find Lance in this crowd. It was madness to hope he'd even remember after all this time.

Beyond the torchlight, the night crouched around the village, impenetrable and waiting. Justin blinked in the sudden absence of light -- the stars hid behind veils of gray clouds like cotton against the velvet sky, and the barest sliver of a moon was all that lit his path. Away from the crowds and the music, his mind was clear as a crystal pool, and what stared at him from its depths terrified him. Another night, alone. Another night, without Lance. Another night, another day, until they rushed together, cascading around him like a waterfall, drowning him in what could have been and what could never be. _Better to simply rip my heart from my chest with a sharp bodkin,_ he thought as he made his way down the narrow alley. _To live without feelings, without remorse, and not let the pain and the memories and the desire touch me, ever again._

Behind him a boot scuffed cobblestone, and Justin stopped in midstep, fear gripping him. For the first time since leaving the safety of the castle, he realized the folly of his decision. No guards, no knights, no one within earshot to call on for help. With this mask across his face, these clothes hiding him, no one knew he was the prince in disguise. His royal lineage meant nothing now, in this alley, to whoever it was following so closely behind him.

He resisted the urge to run. He was the prince, he reminded himself. He would not run from ruffians in the night. He wouldn't.

Deep mocking laughter curled around him, bouncing off the close stone walls, echoing from all sides. He glanced over his shoulder -- nothing but shadows looked back. Picking up his pace, he concentrated on the end of the alley, just a few feet away, a few more steps and he'd be out of the buildings and he could forget his nobility, forget his dignity, forget everything and race back to the castle and his room and his carafe of mulled wine that would chase away the miserable failure of the masque.

Suddenly strong hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. He twisted in the iron grip, trying to wrestle free, but the shadowy stranger had the advantage and he was tossed against the cold wall. The irregular masonry dug into his spine, and Justin pushed against the body pinning him to the stone. "You don't know who I am," he whispered, breathless with fear. "Unhand me. You don't know --"

"Shut up, peasant," a deep voice hissed, and rough hands fumbled for the coin purse at Justin's waist. Justin pushed the eager hands away. _Peasant?_ he thought haughtily, his courage returning at the insult. _You don't KNOW who you're dealing with_ \-- then he felt the cool press of sharpened steel against his throat and he stopped struggling. His life wasn't worth the petty change in his purse.

He glared at his attacker, a dark shadow in the dark alley. "Take it," he said, unhooking the purse from his sash. "A few coins, nothing more. Take it and leave."

A quick intake of breath, and then the fingers fumbled with the mask covering Justin's face. Justin turned away, and short nails scraped against his cheek. At his neck the dagger slipped, the strength behind it gone. "My God," the stranger breathed.

Justin raised his hand to his temple, holding the mask into place. "Take the purse," he said gruffly. "Take it and go. Please."

Tenderly the fingers caressed Justin's cheek, tracing the curve of bone beneath the flushed skin. That touch, once so familiar ... Justin tried to pull back -- he didn't need this, not now, not here, not like this -- but the fingers caught his chin and turned his face up into the scant moonlight. "It _is_ you," the stranger sighed.

"You don't know who I am," Justin said bitterly, turning in the tight grip. "Just take my money and leave me alone. Please."

Leaning closer, the stranger brushed a tentative finger across Justin's lips. "I know who you are." The voice tugged at Justin's mind, and memories tumbled one upon another in their haste to be seen, felt, recalled. Lazy days spent naked beneath the sheets, limbs entwined together, eternities lost in crystalline eyes, whispered promises never meant to be broken. Where were those moments now? How had he let them, let _him,_ slip away?

The stranger's lips closed over Justin's tasting as sweet as succulent summer fruit, a feel of flesh that he never thought he'd taste again. A hesitant tongue parted Justin's lips, delving into his mouth, kissing away the pain that the memories aroused with his very breath. "Lance?" Justin dared to whisper, hating himself for the moment of weakness. But if this was Lance, if this was _him_ ...

"Your Majesty," Lance breathed, kissing Justin again. "Forgive me for not recognizing you sooner." His fingers pulled the mask away, and when he shifted Justin saw those pale green eyes in the moonlight. "Where are your guards? Your retinue? Why are you out here alone?"

Justin touched Lance's face to assure himself that his love was real, standing here in this alley, their bodies pressed together so intimately. "I've been alone since you left," he admitted. "I came to the masque with the hope that maybe I could see you again, just once. Maybe it would make my nights less cold, my days less lonely --"

"I thought you had everything money could buy," Lance whispered. His breath warmed Justin's cheek, and tears stung the prince's eyes. "What more could someone such as yourself possibly want for, if I may ask?"

"You," Justin sighed. "All my riches, my kingdom, my gold -- it means nothing without you. Is there anything I can do, anything at all, that can bring you back to me?"

Lance smiled. He kissed Justin again, those lips like spun sugar, that tongue like honey. "Simply ask, your Majesty," he whispered.

Could it possibly be that easy? Justin closed his eyes and struggled to keep his composure. "Please," he murmured. "Lance, please. Stay with me. Come back and stay. Forever."

"As you wish."


End file.
